


Akame, Sukurīmingu Tamashī

by Ketakoshka



Category: Christian Bible, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketakoshka/pseuds/Ketakoshka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter, trapped at his aunt and uncle's house is given a proposal by a dying Lucifer: to become the new devil and let the old finally find his own peace. But with the old dead, who's left to morn for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

"Get back in there, boy," Vernon Dursley ordered, and Harry obeys, fearing that he would be beat for his insolence like he was the night before. So, he sat on his little cot and looked up at his uncle with bottomless emerald pools, no emotion on his face even as the door closes on him, entrenching his cupboard with darkness.

But what no one knew was that an old Devil, Lucifer Morningstar was looking for someone to take his place. He was weak, dying even without a true end in sight. In Number Four of Privet Drive, a soul cried out in hatred and terror, and he responded by coming to the place where that soul was housed: the cupboard under the stairs. When he looked down upon Harry, a beautiful child with night black hair and devilishly dark, green eyes, he saw a demon trapped within a body and life it didn't want, in a destiny it could never desire.

He laughed, one that every soul was terrified of, but this boy. "Hello, little one."

Harry smiled. "Have you come to kill me?"

"No, my dear child." He reaches out to ruffle the boy's hair, grinning viciously when the child all but purrs. "Have you eaten recently?" Harry shakes his head. "Why not?"

"They will not feed me if I don't do exactly as they say, and even then, I may still not get food."

"That's not right."

"I know, but I cannot change my fate." Harry reaches under his bed to find the sketchbook he'd hidden the week before. He flips it open to a page colored mainly with red. "I often think about doing things like this to them."

He shows it to the old devil who's eyes widen with surprise, more so than when he realized just how smart the child really is. 'This child truly is the perfect replacement.' His uncle's been stabbed by numerous knives that are still in the whale's body, and his head is missing. His aunt's skin has been peeled off, so she could bleed to death. His cousin's slumped over the kitchen table, poisoned no doubt, with his father's head sitting on a plate in front of him. "This is beautiful, little one."

"My name's Harry."

"Harry Potter?" The demonic child nods. 'Oh, how perfect is this?!' He fights the urge to cackle madly as he thinks this. "Do you know why you're here, my perfect, little Harry?"

"No. Did someone put me here?"

"Yes. Albus Dumbledore put you here despite the fact that in your parents' will it said specifically that after they died, you were not to go here."

"How did my parents die?"

"They were murdered."

"Really…" Harry leans forward, intrigued. "Tell me about their murderer." For the next couple of hours, they converse until finally, Harry asks, "why have you come to see me?"

"I want you to take my place."

The boy's head tilts slightly. "But who are you?"

"I'm the devil, my boy."

"As in, The Devil, king of darkness, that kind of thing?"

"Yep."

"Will I get my revenge?"

"Of course," he answers, smirking evilly.

"Where do I sign?" A dark, vile smile appears on the boy's face.


	2. The First Six Days

Chapter 1: The First Six Days

Opening brilliant green eyes to the darkness that he's so familiar too, Harry can't help but think that it had only been a dream, his meeting with the devil. Still he smiles, reaching for the discarded sketchbook and opening it to a blank page. Under his careful hand, he tries to sketch the man from memory, but it won't come out just as he saw him, just a skeleton with haunting holes for eyes and that damned grin that plagues all skeletal beings. "Are you really dying?" he asks the picture, feeling a small amount of sorrow for the first being that he could ever remember not calling him names or hurting him. His own grin grows to the point that it would do the Cheshire Cat proud. "Even if it was a dream…"

His emotions fall back under the indifferent mask as he hears the latch to his cupboard be messed with, and he tosses the sketchbook back under the bed with Lucifer smiling after him. It slams open to reveal his Aunt Petunia who he scowls at before schooling his expression once more. "It's time to get up." He doesn't answer the horse woman and walks out of his room, his mind going back to the devil once more. "Make breakfast, and you better not eat any of it." She gives him a stern look before going upstairs to wake her two whales.

"Whatever you say, worthless human…" He grabs his little stool to reach the stove as well as eggs, bacon and the skillet and sets up, letting his mind wander away.

"Where do I sign?"

The devil smiled and reached out to take my hand into his. "You don't need to, my little successor. If you truly want this, then in seven days' time, you will be perfect. You can do anything that your heart desires, but I, myself, have one condition that you must follow. It is the only thing I will ever ask from you, dear Harry."

"What is it?" I asked, so curious.

"One day, you will meet my only love. This person will say this to you 'I am the one who's wings were tainted, who fell in love with the darkness' kind.' This will be the exact words. You must protect this person for me!" His face was distraught and sorrowful. "My only biggest regret, in the entire world, is leaving this on you." He sighs. "Now, it's time for you to go to sleep."

"Okay…"

He smiles again before kissing my forehead. "Have pleasant nightmares…" And then he left me alone…

Harry's brought back into the present in time to pull the toaster lever down and begin dishing out the food, of course there's none for him. After the toast is buttered and on the plates, he puts said dishware on the table with a pitcher of orange juice before walking to the window and looking out at the snow-covered ground; a wide smile flickers onto his face at the thought that the white would look a little better with three dead bodies lying in it. Suddenly, his own reflection catches his attention.

He raises his hand up to press a finger against the right fang that's appeared; the sharpness of it pricks his finger and makes it bleed. His mind's thrust into a fantasy of sinking those teeth into the neck of his neck to feel her blood well up in his mouth. His head cocks to the side, and he giggles, alerting his family.

"Boy!" Vernon screams. "What are you laughing at?!"

"Nothing uncle," Harry dutifully responds, but in his head, he's thinking, 'just my imagination… I wonder what you'd taste like.'

He watches the outside world for the rest of that morning, imagining and dreaming while his freaked out family stays away from him, too busy with the dinner party on Friday, the last day of Harry's change.

 

The next day, Harry wakes up to his aunts calls around seven, and immediately, he notices that something else about him has changed; he claws that got caught in the fabric. He brushes past her and moves to cook breakfast only for him to be pushed to the table and a plate put in front of him. This occurrence, to be fed so early, is strange in itself, but at the table. He knows that something's up, so he sniffs at the food, detecting a strange smell. Still, he picks up his fork and eats, tasting something strange too, but it doesn't seem to have a bad effect on him.

Much to his aunt and uncle's surprise and horror, the chemical cleaners they put in his food don't do anything to him.

On Monday, after Vernon goes to work, Petunia takes Dudley with her to the toy store. She would have left Harry with Mrs. Figg but the poor boy has been screaming in agony from midnight onward. She's hoping that at last the cleaners are killing her nephew.

What really was happening was the rearrangement of his organs so his bones could be strengthened. While his body is in pain, his mind's in a far off place, only vaguely aware of all of the pain, but happy in his fantasies of murdering those who had wronged him.

 

Tuesday, Harry's all better and smiles, not enough to show off his fangs, but smiling still. There's a new grace to his movements that hadn't been there before, one that came as a side effect to the change in his body.

 

On Wednesday, he's sitting in the total darkness of his room, able to see clearly with his now blood red pools as he draws. The first thing that he makes come to life is a bloodstained rose, then a mansion, and then a black moon with a winged being hanging from it. After he finishes the last one, his mind wanders to the empty feeling in his chest. He's missing someone, but who?

At first, he wonders if he's missing the dead devil, but he casts that aside. He thinks and thinks but can find no one in his memories that could have made him think such thoughts or feel such things, so eventually, he tosses it all aside.

 

Thursday rolls around with a small surprise for the little wizard; his magic that had always been dormant for the most part is finally acting out, allowing him to unlock his cupboard door and sneak outside in the early morning. He stares across the street at the other houses, hoping for some kind of entertaining movement, any at all really. Eventually, a porch light flicks on, and from inside, a young man comes out and looks right into his eyes before bowing. "Who are you?" Harry asks, frowning at the newcomer.

"Just a lowly demon, your majesty."

"Don't you have a name?"

"Miles."

"Miles, is the body that you're inhabiting still living?"

"Yes, but he soul inside will be gone soon enough."

"Oh… Are you happy?" Harry suddenly asks, startling the demon, but even so it answers.

"Very." With the other's answer, the boy stands up and goes back inside to ponder the secrets of demons, hell and morality itself.

 

Harry lays his head on the cot and sighs. "Tomorrow, everything's going to change… for the better…"


	3. Darkness' Child

Chapter 2: Darkness' Child

On the seventh day, Harry awakens before dawn once again but just sits there this time and imagines the life he'll no lead. First he thinks of his revenge, of ripping apart his family, stabbing them, brutally beating them until they breathe no more. Then he thinks about traveling the world; perhaps Miles would like to come with him. At this thought, he unlocks the door and slips outside again to see said demon sitting on his roof with his face turned up to the sky. "Miles," Harry hisses.

His head quickly turns, and a soft smile comes to him. "Hello, your majesty. To what do I owe this honor on a night such as this?"

"I'm leaving this place tomorrow. I was wondering if you'd accompany me."

"It would be a great honor. Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Harry nods. "We leave at noon tomorrow." With that, he spins around and goes back inside.

* * *

Harry's kept in the cupboard all day as he packs up the stuff that he stole from Dudley over the past week into a backpack that was bought for Dudley's first day of school. There's an air rifle that's been modified with Harry's new control over his magic to shoot bullets made from his magic itself; he left that under his bed to leave room for his clothes, dried and canned food, books, some perishables, and any cash that was left lying around. After that, he starts working on the pistols to go with the rifle as well as holsters for them and a strap for the riffle. "Perhaps some throwing knives would be a good idea."

He hears the doorbell chime, and his family lets in their guests. He hears the clatter of dinner plates being set down and smiles to himself, only a little longer. When he hears the conversations really start up, he opens the cupboard door and sneaks out, snagging two kitchen knives as he passes. "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia," he sing-songs. "Don't I get to eat too?" He moves up behind his uncle and slips the knife around the man's throat.

"Boy! What are you doing?!"

Harry chuckles. "I'm going to have some fun. It's time that I got my revenge at last, dear Uncle." He takes the knife away and throws it at the woman across from his aunt; it sticks right in her forehead, cracking the skull and piercing her brain. "She and he," he accents his words by walking over and snapping the other man's neck, "were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now they are dead and gone for good! Isn't that grand?"

He pushes the man off his chair and sits in his seat. "Boy, what have you done?!"

Harry snigger. "I was just getting them away from my food, dear Aunt. Now let me eat in peace. I will deal with you after I'm done." He slowly eats the minestrone soup, holding the other knife in his left hand but not intending to use it for a few moments longer. "Mmm… delicious. Such a grand concoction, Aunt Petunia. I wish I could eat more, but I'm just too full. So I, with a heavy heart must bid you both ado." He snaps his fingers and ropes wrap around Dudley, leaving him out of the mess for the time being.

"No!" Petunia cries, attempting to run away, only to be stopped by the other knife hitting her leg, and she falls to the ground.

He turns his attention to his uncle who's frozen with fear before gagging the man with magic. "Shall I rip you apart, dear uncle? Shall I sink my fangs into you until you have been bled dry? What should I do? Oh, I know!" He summons the another knife and binds the fat man to his chair and traces the flat side against the flabby cheeks and smiling so happily. "I'll cut you up."

* * *

Blood runs down onto the floor and coats the boy's arms while he smiles, cutting through the disgusting amounts of fat and having more fun than he has in ages. Black hair turns red from how the said red fluid flies into the air with every slice and stab. "Oh, how much fun is this!" The knife slices through the fat man's neck and jugular vein and blood runs down quicker until at last, there is not enough to sustain his life force. His aunt, screaming in fear behind her own gag, is grabbed and drug into the living room where she's set up beside the two other bodies and then drained of her blood via fangs and the knives that he'd used on all of her limbs to keep her from getting away. Then his uncle is brought in and set up, leaving him tired. So, he goes up stairs and heads into slumber.

* * *

Red eyes open slowly as their owner fumbles for the lamp, despite not needing it to see and sits up, licking his dry lips and rubbing at his eyes. "It's too early," he groans but walks downstairs anyway, trudging down the bloodstained path from the living room to the dining room with no cares about what it'll do to his clothes.

He comes into the kitchen and cooks up breakfast, bypassing the four dead bodies in the living room before sitting down at the table beside the terrified, tied-up Dudley. "Hungry?" he asks, putting a plate down in front of the boy.

"Y-yes, Harry."

"Master."

"What?"

Harry smirks. "I expect you to call me master from now on. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good boy. Now eat."

"Yes, master."

Harry smiles reassuringly, but his grin turns evil as he watches the whale-boy feast on the still slightly raw meat that had come from his father the night before. After a few minutes, he starts coughing, and his face turns blue. "Don't fight it. Just go to sleep. It'll all be better soon." With an evil laugh, he stands up and walks back up the stairs to get dressed. He's got quite a bit to do now.


	4. Contracts

Chapter 3: Contracts

Harry blinks, blending into the darkness seamlessly while he watches Miles talk to a contractor demon named Jacqueline. It was the demon from next door who thought that going to see the commander of the west side of London was a good idea; Harry is not so sure. From what he's seen, Jacqueline is cruel, demanding, greedy… well, a demon, but something about her sets off a deep hatred in the boy, making him want to rip her throat out and stomp on her face. The only thing that keeps him from doing so is the fact that the redhead is Miles' sister.

Eventually, his blue eyed companion comes out with a broad smile across his face. "Sire!"

"I said that you could call me Harry," the boy says, annoyed.

"I know, but it is not proper, especially in front of others."

Harry shakes his head, knowing that it's a losing battle; he's been with Miles for almost a month now, but the demon's very conscious about what he says and does. "What do you want?"

"Jacqueline asked me to pick up a soul, and I was wondering if you would like to accompany me."

A nod is the response. "Lead the way."

* * *

The streetlights, so sparse, barely illuminate the street where a woman runs for her life, instantly regretting the contract she made for a better life. She knows that the demons will be coming to drag her soul to hell, but she wants to live. So she, stumbling over cracks and uneven patches of concrete screams for help only to run into a young man with brown hair streaked with blue. "You have to help me," she pleads.

"Why should I?" He turns his head, and immediately, she follows his gaze to see a young boy siting on a retaining wall with his hands crossed. "Should I… Harry?"

"No…" The boy jumps down, and the woman can see him as the devil that he really is.

"Please don't do this!" she cries. "I don't want to go to Hell!"

He gives her a cold look. "You sold your soul, Maggie… It was your choice. You made it, and now you must pay the price…" Harry grabs Miles' hand. "Are the hellhounds going to kill her now?"

The demon smiles. "Yes, they will. Is this fine with you?" Black hair floats in front of a small face as the owner nods. "Good." When they walk away, the dogs descend on the woman. "Does ice cream sound good to you?"

"Yeah… I want chocolate."

"Me too."

* * *

A couple of days later, Harry's walking down the street by himself when he starts to feel them, the souls that are bound to Hell and, by extension, him. He can feel the contracts that throb with the need to be fulfilled and he wants to catch those souls and hear their stories, know what they've done with the extra time, with the things contract demons have promised. There are some, like a man who'd offered up his soul to save his daughter's life who'd been dying of cancer, who are willing to spend an eternity in agony to help others.

Miles told him that he'd sold his own soul to cure his village of the plague; in return, he was burnt alive before his contract was over. Then he found himself before Lucifer who'd taken him in as a protégé, apparently, it was a very big deal.

Harry smiles with these thoughts; these people are the ones that he knows he can trust, even when they become demons. He wants to surround himself with them, make an inner circle with trust at its base, something very rare amongst demons. So he decides to search for others to add to this circle, even if they are human right now.

* * *

Over the next five years, Miles and Harry travel together, seeing the world and all of its glories as the new devil's powers develop. They see Russia, France, America and Japan: the four places that he'd wanted to see for most of his life, and in each place, he made new friends but no one was more special to him then Miles, who held a familiarity to him. He knows not why Miles seems to be so special and why he thinks in his heart that he's known him for more years then he has been alive…


End file.
